Teamwork
by ShadowValley
Summary: Bobby and Alex do an undercover Vice Sting.  Rated T for sexuality.


Teamwork by Shadow

It was one of those days when the newbie gets shuffled. You know, they didn't know what to do with me or who lost the bet and got stuck with me all day, explaining their everyday tasks to a wet behind the ears, over-eager "probie." I don't know what Mr. Detective First Grade Robert Goren did to deserve having me as a tag-along for his sting, but here I was. My first impression, after_ Good Lord he's huge _was that he looked kind of...

"He looks... pouty," I pointed out to Captain Deakins. Much to my surprise, I got a smirk instead of a reprimand.

"Eames is out," he said, as if this explained everything.

"I, uh..."

"Don't worry, you'll hear plenty about Eames. If you're anything like the last tag-along, you'll come to dread the name after hearing it about fifty times an hour. Too bad you won't see them both in action. They're the definition of teamwork."

"Hi, Detective," I said tentatively, trying not to look nervous. He looked like a serial killer out of some movie, and I'd heard rumors about his interrogation techniques. Other rumors too, but I tried not to think about those. But when I extended my hand and introduced myself as Parker Amory, Detective fifth grade, his mandatory you-don't-want-me-here-tag-along-for-the-day, he grinned one of the cutest, I mean little kid puppy dog cute, smiles I'd ever seen and shook my hand, saying he was happy to have me along.

"Eames isn't here today, I'll be glad for the company. My partner," he explained. "Alex Eames."

"Oh, so you and Alex get along well?" _What a lame question, Amory. You get along well_? _What was _that _about? _

"Very well, yeah. I hate it when Eames isn't here," he grumbled. "I'm doing a sting today. Well, we're doing a sting, I suppose. I hope you don't mind a little vice work?"

"Do I have to wear the... um..."

"I think we can find something relatively decent. You won't be playing a working girl, if that's what you mean. Just, you know, regular low-life scum. Sorry." He set the coffee cup he'd been holding in his left hand down on the desk, and gestured for me to lead the way.

I nodded, acquiescing.

"My partner used to work vice. Good at it, from what I hear. Not that I, um, uh... Never mind."

_Oh-kaaay._

So I ended up in an alley dressed in "not working girl but still a complete skank druggie" clothes. Goren kindly suggested that "the more doped-up I look, the less likely the perps would be to give me any trouble." Great. _That _really allays my fears.

The assignment, he explained once we were in the SUV (Eames usually drives. Alex really likes to drive, so we... Oh, sorry.) was a group of corrupt cops taking favors from local streetwalkers in return for letting them walk the streets unhindered. Goren was to go in as a cop interested in the deal, then bust them as soon as they tipped their hand and committed an act they could be charged for, either solicitation or bribery.

I was to lurk down the alley as a random homeless woman who wouldn't be of interest to the group. He said I could be his backup, but I had the feeling he was just trying to make me feel important. But why was he here alone, anyway? That's got to be some breach of NYPD code.

I had to admit he had the undercover shtick down pat. After establishing that I was just some whore stumbling around and they shouldn't bother with me, he shot me an apologetic glance that would have looked to the outsider something like disdain. He was vulgar and crude and... was that a Bronx accent? Overkill, Detective. He had approached them about reporting their activities unless they let him in on the deal. Apparently, one of their best... business associates would be showing up shortly.

She came in with an attempted sashay that looked more like a drunken stagger. She was middle-aged and I could see she would be pretty if it weren't for the clothes and make-up. I wondered what had happened to get her into this life. Poor woman. She was small, and I couldn't help but wonder how many times she might have been brutalized, used as an "acceptable" outlet by pedophiles, or both. But tiny as she was, I got the sense that this was a woman who could hold her own, despite her profession.

"You're not Sally," one of the other officers said accusingly.

"Sally's incapacitated," she said simply. "Sent me along instead."

Goren scrunched his face up, clearly upset about something. "This?!" he gestured derisively to the woman. "I thought this deal was for high class shit, not a drugged-up hooker!"

For a moment, I thought she was going to round on him. She looked like the type who wouldn't put up with that kind of treatment, even from a cop. But her lips curled into a small smile as she approached him.

"Oh, the big boy's not impressed," she cooed, pressing him up against the wall. "You think you wouldn't like what I have to offer?" I was afraid her boobs were going to fall right out of her tiny little shirt as she moved to vertically straddle him.

Was Major Case always like this? Yikes.

She was playing with his buttons now, teasing. "If you want to call me a drugged-up hooker, you can... I mean, once we start. You can call me whatever you want. Surely there's some name that comes to mind. Somebody you know you'll never get. But you can have me. You can pretend." She loosened his shirt from his pants. "Go ahead and enjoy the view," she told him. Not that she needed to. He had been staring intently at her chest for the past two minutes.

To his credit, I sensed somehow that Goren was uncomfortable with the situation. The thought never would have occurred to me, though, if I had not met the polite, puppy-dog detective he had cast aside for the role. The other would-be Johns had no clue.

Her fingers were winding up around his neck and pulling him closer to her face. She moved to kiss him and he backed away, turning his head to the side, rejecting her.

I saw what might have been a flicker of hurt, but dismissed it as a feeling of professional failure. She continued to trace her fingers over his face, down to his shirt again, working seamlessly at the buttons. The other cops were on tenterhooks, hoping they might get a free show, no doubt. She forced her body up against his, rubbing him with her breasts, but made no move to undress him further.

Either Goren was _really _getting into character or the guy, who I was respecting less and less by the minute, was having some real difficulties keeping it together. The fit of his trousers was changing significantly. The working girl had noticed it to. Her eyes widened in a moment of surprise, but she said nothing. She moved her right leg away from his so she was no longer straddling him, and stood between Goren and the other officers, facing me. I couldn't help but notice that her touch considerably lightened after that, the last thing I would have expected. He did, however, not object when she pulled up his left hand and rested it on her thigh. The tableaux was awkward. He was reaching over his body to touch her while his right hand rested at his side. I furrowed my brow. Something was strange here. But how could she know that he was le-

"I know you want me," she whispered, so quietly the others couldn't have heard. Back under control, Goren's bulge was thankfully subsiding.

"Come here," he said in a vaguely menacing voice. He studied her face for a moment, and looked as though he were about to kiss her. In a change that seemed to me to come out of nowhere, he snatched her wrist up in the hand that had been comfortably perched on her thigh. "I don't fuck around with trash," he hissed, and with a quick movement I barely caught a glimpse of, he threw her unceremoniously to the ground.

I nearly broke my cover. To lose your temper in the interrogation room was one thing, but to manhandle an innocent civilian was quite another. She was lying by a stack of boxes, and I heard a stifled sob. I wanted to comfort her. I wanted to tell her it was okay.

I wanted to strangle Robert Goren.

I forced myself to stay where I was.

An ugly unkempt officer standing on the other side of Goren, away from the whimpering prostitute started undoing his belt. "Might as well have some fun with her." He strode over toward the woman.

A rage like I haven't seen in any perp I've dealt with came over Goren. He grabbed the back of the dirty cop's uniform and flung him into the wall. "Stay away from her!" He shouted. "Fuck with filth like that you get a disease," he told him in a calmer voice. He looked down at the woman, and from my angle, I could see his concern. The others wouldn't have been able to see his face, thankfully. His cover had not been blown by his outburst.

The woman herself wore a reproachful look, as if he'd done something wrong.

After another hellish twenty minutes, the dirty cops had been dragged away by the backup officers Goren had neglected to tell me about. I rounded on him immediately, hindering his attempt to get to the girl, who he, to his credit, seemed genuinely worried about. "What the HELL were you thinking?! You can't just brutalize civilians! Did you even-"

"Looked good to me!" said a chipper voice to my right. I felt Goren brush past me as he impatiently rushed to the woman on the ground.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" He was helping her up off the ground and judiciously examining her wrist. "Do you need to see a doctor?"

"I'm _fine_, Bobby, a doctor! Good grief! Oof," she said jovially as she got to her feet. "Ouch! Just the shoes, Bobby!" she added quickly when he started to fuss.

I was watching all this, open mouthed and obviously forgotten. He was acting like a mother hen, and she was acting like...

"Are you sure you're okay, Alex?"

"Bobby, this stiletto is going into your _head _if you ask that one more time!" He laughed a little. Alex, who I had a sneaking suspicion I had heard about before, finally looked at me. "Uh, hi?"

"I'm Amory," I said, so stunned I was no longer quite sure Amory was even my name.

"Eames," she told me, offering her hand. She looked at the stunned disbelief on my face and the slightly guilty look on his. "He didn't tell you, did he?"

"Uh, no," was all I could manage.

She smacked him on the arm. "Are you playing 'fun with newbies' or something? God, Bobby, she was probably freaking out!"

"I'd say that sums it up," I said, finally all together and mad as hell. "Why didn't you tell me!?"

"You want me to hit him again?" Eames offered.

"Please!" She obliged, though she was smiling.

Goren looked at her, attempting to seem annoyed and not pulling it off particularly well. "Would you please stop hitting me?"

"No," she said, smirking. But she didn't make any move to smack him again.

"Geez, Eames cover up." He looked as if he had only just noticed her outfit. "You shouldn't wear clothes like that." He fumbled with his overcoat and draped it over her. It looked like she was going to step on it.

"Gee, thanks, Pal. You want me to tell you what _you _look like?"

The banter continued on the way to the SUV. But they hung back for a minute just as I was getting to the passenger door. They weren't aware that I could hear them even as they were whispering.

"Al- uh, Eames, I'm really sorry about the... um." He was looking at the ground and I could tell he was ashamed. I went back to feeling sorry for him.

"No worries," she said lightly. "It's just like breathing, you can't help it. Don't get upset about it: I'm not."

He looked up at her, somewhat disbelieving. "And thank you for... um, blocking their view."

"'Course. What are partners for?" She paused. "Actually, I don't think _that's _what partners are for, but you get the point." He laughed in spite of his shame. "Come on," she said in her normal voice. "I think you already lost your claim on shotgun." She gestured to me. She tapped his arm again. "Let's get outta here, Bobby." After he'd headed for the back door, I thought I saw a look on her face that might have been perceived as sadness - like a woman who had come just that close to the prize only to give it up again.

I had the suspicion she never mentioned the incident again. She'd care too much to ever embarrass him like that.

But one thing I knew: I sure had learned a lot about teamwork. I think I know, too, that if they looked closer, they'd see a better team than they new.

Now get me out of these damn clothes.

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